Mortals are mere toys
by ChaosGin
Summary: Loki would have all the time in the world to find a toy once his plans came to fruition to be sure, but he wanted to indulge himself now, he sought some distraction, of sorts. Besides, he was rather curious about the mortals since his brother lost what little reason he had for one of them. WARNING: ABUSE
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**

 **Hi there! I have to admit first hand that I am not a huge Marvel fan and most of the hindsight I get about it comes from my brother.**

 **Anyway I was watching Thor a few evenings ago and yesterday I was calling the University but they left me on hold of about 75 minutes (hysterical laughter) so in the meantime my imagination sparked and I began writing.**

 **It will be very likely a very violent sort of story but I find it always a good exercise to write whatever imagination demands of you. I'm not planning on making this fic particularly long, mainly because it will probably only follow the storyline of The Avengers movie and also because if I'm not particularly invested in the characters I tend to abandon my stories for very looooooong periods of time, so if I make it short I will avoid an endless hiatus.**

 **Any comment on style, typos, anything at all is very welcome.**

* * *

'Bring me a toy' he ordered lazily, sitting in a corner of disused underground facility they had taken up as base.

'A toy..?' the scientist asked confused.

'Any preference?' the archer inquired. His mind was sharper than the scientist's in a way, more aware of the world around him whereas the scientist's was lost between the physical and the metaphysical wonders of his field of expertise.

'Soft. And warm' he replied, distracted, and the archer nodded to another man to take charge in his place, leaving for his frivolous quest.

Loki would have all the time in the world to find a toy once his plans came to fruition to be sure, but he wanted to indulge himself _now_ , especially after the daunting conversation he had with his 'superior'. He had confined himself in this hideout surrounded by his brainwashed slaves, now he sought some distraction, of sorts. Besides, he was rather curious about the mortals since his brother lost what little reason he had for one of them.

He had no specific taste in any case, appearance or gender wise, though his sense of aesthetic was very refined. Yet right now he didn't feel too picky so he just left the choice to the archer trusting he would find a prise that would not disappoint too much.

Barton walked about the most frequented streets, where nightlife was usually buzzing but now the bars, pubs and cafes were quiet and many were completely empty. No matter how long the night they too had to close business till the following evening at least. His mind was focused on his objective but at the same time is was bizarrely hazy, as if he were drunk but didn't stumble about because under the effect of some enhancing drug that powered him and kept him concentrated on this task.

Indeed the task was much easier than directing the security of their hideout, besides it wouldn't take him long to find someone at this hour since the choice was scarce. There were night time creatures leaning here and there against street lamps or building walls, with cheap short clothes and runny make up, but they were not an option, he was looking for something cleaner and that didn't look like a discarded doll. He wasn't necessarily looking for a woman though. His master did not exactly specify anything at all in fact and he cast his eye on several young men wearing tight jeans and shirts with dark patterns but he was not a good judge in male beauty and it would be easier to subdue a woman than a man, it would be simply more practical for him. Yet the streets were not very busy and despite his nonchalant pace and the hood he raised over his head he didn't wish to attract too much attention aiming for a woman that was already with company, even if it was only other women. He had to find the right prey. One to easily snatch away without anyone noticing, without causing any noise or disturbance. Several women walked past, girlfriends quietly giggling about their night, holding on to one another so as not to stumble on their spiked heels with their impaired balance.

In one such group he spotted a tall young woman with long dark hair and dark eyes. She walked with no hesitation on her knee high boots with a heel so sharp she could've used it to kill a man. Body sinuous and wrapped in a tight dress of black and silver lace. Her arm was gracefully wrapped around her friend's but she shot a glance to Barton, who stopped in his tracks to stare as she walked past.

 _She would do perfectly_.

But as she strode away his attention was caught by the bar in front of him. It was empty save for a woman dragging inside the chairs for the customers that preferred to drink outside smoking or enjoying the evening breeze.

This one fitted the description better. Soft and warm. Shaped like an hourglass, with a pink shirt tucked into a red skirt all puffed up beneath with a petticoat. Her hair was a warm shade of blond, or a very light ginger, wrapped behind her head but with a few loose curls hanging around her face.

Barton walked towards the entrance of the bar. Her most prominent feature were her luscious red lips, sharply defined yet soft, they seemed ready for a kiss, especially now that she was exerted in the tidying up around her. She had a light pout of concentration, almost of displeasure. She looked indeed like a doll, like an actress form one of those old movies, she was only missing a bow on her head. Perhaps she took it off during the evening.

She noticed Barton standing near the entrance so she dismissed him uninterested 'We're closed.' Then she added 'And I'm busy.' It was a classic move by all sorts of customers to hit on the waitresses so he wasn't really surprised by her attitude.

'I'm not busy' he said with a small grin. 'I can wait.'

As she dragged inside the last table she graced him with a rather unimpressed look. Barton leaned on the entrance door and watched her calmly sweeping the floor, he expected her to look a bit more nervous in front of a stranger at this hour in the night. She was probably used to random creeps, most likely she had pepper spray in her bag, maybe even a small knife. To be fair how could she even know the man in the doorway was a secret agent, a trained assassin, a sniper, a professional archer.

The woman approached Barton and he half expected to be shooed away, but she only started switching off the few lights that still remained on without even looking at him.

'What's your name?' he asked her.

As she turned her back to him to disappear in the darkness of the bar she replied.

'Rose'

He had to laugh. _Rose_. How appropriate.

As he chuckled he asked again 'Are you serious? That is your real name?'

He couldn't see nor hear her anymore. For an instant he thought she ran away from the back door.

But she remerged from the darkness with her bag in one hand and wearing a black cardigan with white buttons and flowers embroidered on it. Her heels were black and so was her bag, from which peaked what looked like a red silk scarf. He kept chuckling but stepped out of the door and watched her lock the place behind her.

As she placed the keys back in her bag she turned to face him.

'Do you think you're intimidating me? Are you planning on stealing my bag?' her hand was still in the bag. Ah, the pepper spray, or the unlikely knife.

'Get lost. Ok?' she continued. She didn't look scared, she looked particularly annoyed though. He wondered how often she had been approached by creeps of all sorts.

But this was already taking too long. He had been wandering around for this toy for over half an hour. The longer he took the more his master would be displeased.

He stepped aside and let her go on her way.

For a while.

Then he began following her quietly, remaining in the shadows. She turned around a few times but apparently she didn't see him. Eventually she stopped near a row of cars parked next to the footpath and began rummaging in her bag once more for the keys of her car, an very old Ford that with rusty green paint. Barton silently approached her from the back, waiting for the right time. When she finally unlocked the door he sprang behind her with a gun pressed to the back of her neck.

She gasped while Barton ripped the keys from her hands and pushed her in the car, first in the driver seat but then her pushed her further to the passenger seat and sat himself behind the steering wheel, pointing the gun to her face with his right hand and turning the car on with his left. Rose was so stunned she couldn't make a noise, she hardly even blinked and stared at the barrel of the gun.

'You don't mind if we go for a ride, do you?' Barton asked casually and he drove off.

'P-Please..' she only whispered.

'Don't worry. I don't want to steal your bag. Or your car, in any case. How old is this thing?'

Rose was scared now. It looked as she wasn't even breathing. Barton knew he didn't really need to threaten her with the gun anymore but he preferred to point it at her face instead of going through the hassle of putting it back in his holster while driving. He never was one much for either guns or cars. That was usually – That was usually – That was –

He shook his head to keep his thoughts clear.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**

 **Hello! Here we are again! This chapter has been ready for a while actually but I should probably take it easy in posting updates and be... _methodical_ , so I've been patient. **

**I don't know if anyone is as eager as I am to get to the bottom of this 'adventure' (to call it an adventure for Rose would be a bit too optimistic, it is on the other hand an adventure for me because as I said I'm trying to be methodical in writing and publishing because it's good exercise), although I would like to thank Emily, my first follower! You are kindly cherished, my dear!**

 **Anyhow, reviews of all kinds are welcome and I'll leave you to read the rest.**

* * *

The kidnapper seemed confused for an instant but Rose dared not make a move against him because despite his confusion he still held his gun firmly towards her face. He was likely on some kind of drug. His eyes had an unnatural glow, in fact they seemed to actually… _glow_. Maybe it was some sort of contact lenses. Regardless, he seemed pretty sure of where to go, he wasn't just driving around. He was taking her somewhere.

Just as she was mustering up the courage to say something to him, to beg him to let her go, he drove inside what looked like an underground passage, maybe to a parking lot. It was a tunnel that went on for a while, the way visible only thanks to the car's headlights. Finally he turned left and they reached what seemed like a very small and dim underground parking lot. A few men wearing black were waiting for them, all armed with at least one gun. All with the same unnaturally brilliant eyes. Even the way they moved was unnatural.

Her kidnapper stepped out of the car but she was frozen on the spot, she could hardly breathe. Her heart was beating so fast she thought she was going to faint. Her mouth was dry. Rose was sure even if she tried to speak she would probably only sob. But her reverie was broken when the man opened her door and roughly grabbed her arm pulling her out of the car. He didn't let go though. Her dragged her along towards a door in the thick concrete wall of what looked like a vault, but before they stepped through it the man handed her car keys to someone ordering him to 'Get rid of the car.'

A frantic noise of protest and panic escaped her throat but he pushed her forward and they walked into a room, a basement considering they were underground, that looked very much like a laboratory. There was some sort of high tech lab with mysterious machinery, isolated by plastic curtains, and countless computer screens that added to the heavily lit room the eerie glow of a phantom vision.

Rose was so overwhelmed she couldn't elaborate a single thought. The first sensible thought she finally had was that this must be some secret underground government facility. But this was absurd. What did she have to do with any government secret business? The only other option was for these to be terrorists.

Another anguished sob escaped her lips and she tried to pull her arm from her captor's grip, who looked at her with surprise before pushing her forward again with such force she stumbled. The only noise in the room she could hear, aside from the faint buzz of the computers, was the clack of her heels. She couldn't quite focus on the conversations taking place everywhere in the rest of the basement, of people working on computers or moving machinery and weapons here and there.

A middle-aged man stepped out of the isolated lab and began to approach them, he had the same brilliant eyes as all the others and an extremely surprised look on his face as he look at her, as if she was a dancing bear of something of the sort.

Rose couldn't find the strength to breathe, let alone to scream. She was an hostage. She was an hostage and they were going to torture her and force to do one of those videos to send to the government for some sort of ransom or request. This was not something about money, after all she was a nobody from nowhere, she barely reached the end of the month with her salary. This was about much more than money. Those machines – What were those machines? What was that luminescence in the laboratory?

The old man was still staring at her, holding his glasses in one hand. He looked just so surprised. These people had to be on some kind of drug. When he got closer he just whispered 'ooh' as if he understood some deep mystery of the universe. Still, he looked confused.

'Please…' she implored him, her voice little more than a broken whisper.

Her captor wasn't pushing her anymore. They were in the middle of the basement and he seemed to be looking around for someone. People were walking in every direction attending to all sorts of tasks. Part of the vault was brightly lit, the rest of the place didn't have so many lights and some areas were particularly dark and only the computer screens shed a little light there.

Then a tall man emerged from behind a thick square pillar, slowly walking towards them. He had to be the leader of whoever these people were. Rose felt like she was imprisoned in her own body, her legs heavy, her throat dry, yet her heart was about to explode so fast it was beating and in her lungs were trapped screams and cries. Not even her eyes had the courage to shed a tear. She breathed heavily and stared at this man, who donned an insane attire. A dark coat with golden plates over one shoulder and green inlays. He even seemed to be wearing a golden armour underneath. His eyes were cold, almost dead, but he had a deranged smile on his thin lips.

 _WhywhywhyWHYWHYWHY?_

Rose felt like she was going to choke on the scream trapped in the throat.

'Boss' said the man holding her arm. 'How best to get acquainted with the wonders of Earth then starting with an actual American pin-up!' with that he shoved Rose so hard towards the tall man and she fell hands and knees at his feet.

He held a pointed staff in his hand that shone like everyone's eyes right near the tip. Rose only stared at the staff, the tip looked sharp enough to give mortal injuries. She felt his stare though. A dreadful thought sneaked in her head. She could already taste the pain of the coming tortures, though she started to realize that she didn't envision the correct kind of tortures that expected her. By the words of her kidnapper it didn't sound exactly like she was just going to be beaten. Something worse awaited her.

Finally the tall man spoke.

'Get up' he commanded in a silky tone.

Rose couldn't move. Even if she got up her legs were not likely to keep her standing.

Then the man moved the tip of his staff beneath her chin and lifted her face upwards. His eyes were fair but they didn't glow like the other's.

'Stand' he commanded once again.

This time she rose.

The man had at least six inches on her and briefly looked her over, then he focused on her eyes.

* * *

The woman had a terrified look in her eyes. And she should be terrified, standing before him and all his might. He could crush her like a fly. Perhaps like a small bird. A fly was not a good comparison for this creature. Her appearance was pleasing. A delicate little doll.

He smirked.

She will be a bit ragged by the time he'd be done with her. He was intrigued.

Or maybe not. He could make her comply to his every whim, like the rest of his witless thralls. He raised the point of his staff to her chest.

But her eyes would be terribly spoiled by the energetic influence of the Tesseract. They were so dark and deep, and scared. A brown so rich, like gold hidden in the dark.

He retreated his staff from her and without looking away he addressed the archer 'Make sure to provide doctor Selvig with whatever he deems necessary to complete his task.'

Then he grabbed a hold of the young woman's arm and dragged her off as she stumbled on her feet. This grim abandoned basement was small, truly not suited for someone of his magnitude. It had to make do of course, for the time being. He had to rely on the abilities of the old man, although he had to admit the work would have been more proficient had he managed to get a hold of his brother's woman. The old man's brain could not compare with hers. Yet he was at hand when he arrived on Midgard. Besides, had he made a move on the woman his brother would have found a way to make his undesired appearance and interfere with his plans.

His mind was still wrapped around these thoughts in the brief walk that led from the main chamber where his men were working to the smaller rooms where they may seek some rest. His men had quarters suitable to host a good number of them, which sufficed since they took shifts in attending to his orders. He had taken a small separate chamber – although to call it a chamber at all would be a vast exaggeration. A closet would be a word more apt to describe his quarters. It was small, it was barely lit and the bed was little more than a cot.

As they stepped inside he let go of her arm and closed the door behind him. She quickly sprang a few steps away from him. She couldn't really go very far considering the restrictive surroundings and he couldn't help but chuckle lightly.

'I was hoping you'd be more…vocal'


	3. Chapter 3

The woman kept her back to him. Not a sound escaped her lips.

Shame.

He would fix that. He had half a mind to tear her clothes from behind so as to make her scream. But then he reasoned he should play nice with this new toy instead of breaking her right away. He could do that later, before discarding her, when she would be of no more use and then he would get a new plaything.

He rested the staff in a corner of the room, then he slid his coat off and placed it on the bed, finally he unbuckled his breastplate and removed it from his chest but instead of setting it on the floor he simply made it vanish silently though magic. Removing his clothes without magic was almost ritualistic: performing these simple tasks by their slow step was stretching out his feeling of anticipation and to be relieved of his armour, though light, was pleasant. He could move more freely and he didn't consider this weak mortal capable of inflicting him any harm.

Loki raised a hand to the woman's hair and removed the big yet simple hairpin that held her hair in place so her locks fell behind her shoulder. As he approached her he realised she was shivering. Roughly he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her to him, till his chest was pressed against her back.

That's when she gasped. And she began whispering, like a child's prayer to a careless god ' _please please please don't don't don't_ ', like a quiet singsong. Her eyes were still open though, this pleased him. She had enchanting eyes, and dark, which was not something common in Asgard, where fairer shades were the norm. They were full of tears now, and glimmered beneath the dim light hanging from the ceiling. Yet she shed not a single tear. Yet.

He turned his head so as to sniff her face, her hair, her skin. Like an wolf sniffing the doe he mauled to death before feasting on her meat.

Oranges. He buried is nose in her hair and inhaled deep. Her hair smelled of oranges and..faintly oh so faintly of blossoms. Tea. That was it. Oranges and tea. He exhaled loudly, as if he had finally emerged from the water after he had almost downed.

Roughly he shoved her forward, towards the wall. And she remained there. Now her breathing was becoming louder, more ragged, as if she was barely holding on to her tears and her fears.

His smirk had vanished. He wasn't pleased anymore. What was this mute siren? She was a sack of rotting flesh, that's all she was. Nothing more. All he sought was the warmth between her legs. Nothing more. Not the scent of her hair, the glimmer in her eye, nor the softness of her skin. No.

He lunged towards her in a single step and this time he got a hold of her neck to turn her around and press his chest to hers, once again breathing in the scent of her hair with force, to exhale with a frustrated moan. He barely felt her hands trying to push his chest away. He barely herd her faint sobs of protest. So weak, so small she was, he required no strength at all to pull her wrists apart and lock them against the wall.

Tears streaked her face now but that didn't interest him anymore. He had begun tasting her skin. With his face against her neck he wasn't so much as kissing whereas truly tasting her, with his lips, the lip of his tongue, fully licking her, till he reached the swell of her breasts. He backed away an inch though.

Her clothes did not smell like her hair. They smelled of beer. They reeked in fact. But her bosom was inviting despite the smell and he had begun to kneel –

Loki of Asgard did not kneel.

Loki stood tall once more and sneaked a hand behind the woman's back and pushed her to the bed next to the opposite wall, against which she fell on her chest with a small cry of pain. With a graceless hold he rolled the woman on her back and swiftly eased himself atop her. This way it was easier for him to roam his fingers on her body, snaking them under the cloudy folds of her skirt until he could dig them in the soft flesh of her thighs and her ass –

He began to laugh with his face pressed against her ribs, beneath her right breast. It seemed almost absurd how feral he was behaving and to suppress the wolfish grin on his face he bit the top of her breast though not enough to cause pain, with layers of clothing separating his teeth from her nipple.

Then he slid off her to rest on his side and pulled her hips hard towards his groin. Indeed he was hard and initially he began to rock against her but he stopped. All he could feel were the layers of cloth that puffed her skirt like a cloud. So he rested his head near hers taking in her scent again, fumbling his fingers around the strings he felt on her thighs, wondering what sort of absurd undergarment Midgardian women wore.

The only sound were her stifled sobs.

* * *

Her head was a haze of terror. The only thing Rose could think about was _whywhywhywhywhyohwhy her_. If only her tears could magically make her disappear, far from this monster, back in her small flat, where she could wrap herself in her blankets, where no one would grope or sniff her.

He was hard against her back, she couldn't feel him thankfully, her petticoat was working as a pillow between them. But she knew he was hard, he was breathing against her ear like a dog in heath. Rose was praying desperately for him to fall asleep, anything to stop him from going any further. She wished like a child to wake up from this nightmare.

How could this be real?

She worked all her life in bars and pubs, she could handle any sort of man, from the horny young men to the dirty old ones who couldn't keep their hands to themselves. She walked almost fearlessly anywhere at any time of the night.

How could this have happened?

In a matter of seconds she was shoved in this horrible situation. She should've sprayed the man with the glowing eyes when she had the chance to run away. Why didn't she spray him? Why?

He just – He just didn't really feel dangerous.

If she wasn't too busy trying to contain her sobs she would've laughed at how stupid she had been.

He didn't _feel_ dangerous. No one has a radar to spot dangerous people. She had risked her life because her guts told her this random guy was not a threat. What a stupid _stupid_ stupid girl.

The man holding her now though seemed to be falling asleep, his breathing was not ragged anymore and more even. But he maintained a solid grip around her waist. Rose waited for wat seemed an eternity, then she tried to move away without waking him up but her movements were too constrained against his chest.

Slowly she managed to shift so that she was on her back. They barely fit together in the small Spartan bed. She stared for a little while to a small moth that kept flying around the shade of the lamp hanging from the ceiling. After a while she remembered another source of light. The staff this man was carrying. The _sharp pointed_ staff.

Her heart skipped a beat. Rose turned her head on the side to check that the man next to her was indeed asleep. He didn't look peaceful though, in fact he looked in pain. In his sleep his high forehead was contracted, his thin lips pressed together in a small frown. He almost looked…inhuman. His features sharp, his long black hair a little dishevelled, like any man. But not quite. Something about him felt _different_.

How ridiculous. This was her fear. Nothing more. He was just a man. A man who did horrible things to her and would probably do worse when he woke up. If she could slip away from his grasp and get a hold of that staff she could defend herself.

So she tried again to slowly and quietly move away from him. One of his hands was tangled in the slings of her garter belt but he slipped it on her knee when she initially turned on her back, the other was trapped beneath her waist. Rose carefully got into a sitting position, stopping at every squeak of the bed and holding her breath at every creak of the springs under the mattress, making sure the man was still asleep every once in a while.

She swung her right leg off the bed, then she slowly slipped the left one from under his hand and finally onto the floor. All she had to do now was to get up without the bed making a noise. This was the hardest bit. She couldn't even breathe, so tense she was. She gathered all her courage and sprung suddenly off the bed. Not a sound. Had she taken her time it would've surely made a tremendous noise.

Rose stood still for a few seconds, then took a step to turn around and make sure her abuser was still asleep. She knew he was, if he wasn't he would have assaulted her again, but she had to turn and make sure. However, the moment she moved her foot to turn around, her heel clacked against the floor. In the silence of the room it sounded as loud as a thunder. But he didn't seem to have heard it. So Rose let go of the breath she had been holding.

Suddenly a new thought dawned on her. _Did he lock the door?_ She couldn't remember him doing so. She could escape. She had to escape. Her head was spinning. She could steal the staff and walk away. Breathing became once more a complicated task.

With exaggerated care she moved her feet on the floor towards the corner against which the staff was leaning. It was a blessing the room was so small. In the span of several endless seconds she wrapped her hand around the staff and turned towards the door. When her other hand carefully turned the handle she was taking shallow breaths in anticipation.

She pulled the door towards her, but it didn't move.

Her heart sank in her chest, all air escaped her lungs and she stood in front of the door, her hand still on the handle.

Rose turned it again pushing forward this time but the door didn't move.

The horror she felt was almost physically painful.

She tried turning the handle the opposite way, first she pulled the door, then she pushed it.

Nothing changed.

'Out of curiosity, even if you managed to leave this room, how far did you think you'd get until you'd stumble upon my men?'

Rose let go of the handle and placed her hand on her mouth to stifle her broken sobs. Or maybe she was gasping for air. She wasn't sure herself.

There wasn't much else for her to do except turn around and face him. He was standing a few steps away from her, but how did he get there? She didn't hear him move at all.

* * *

 **A/N**

 **Hi guys! To be honest I'm not quite content, don't think I could ever be no matter how many times I write this chapter over and over.**

 **We are getting somewhere here but I truly hope you will like Rose better in the following chapters or if you do already like her I hope you still will when we start finding out more about her.**

 **I felt like I had to publish this as soon as possible today because I have a lot of things to do, I'm taking the overnight bus to go visit my parents because I wanted to surprise my dad. He is leaving for our country and I won't see him again until after Easter.**

 **Thank you so much for following and I hope you enjoyed this chapter...and the anticipation before getting to the next one!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N**

 **Hi folks! I'm so so sorry this is coming so late. The relatives held me captive with gifts and dinners and all that. I just got back to my apartment and my laptop after one hell of a trip. My brother is moving in, my mother is staying for a while. I'm basically pissed off all the time.**

 **To know that you are reading and that there's even a few of you who are intrigued enough to follow is truly uplifting. Remember, any comment is more than welcome!**

 **I finished and edited this chapter a bit in a rush but I had these images in my head for a long time so I hope you enjoy this.**

* * *

She lifted the staff, holding it with both hands. That would keep a distance between them for a while. It was challenging to hold properly though. It was shaped like a claw and this made the staff heavier on the top part. To be able to hold it more comfortably her hands should've been midway the length of the staff but she wanted to keep a good distance from this madman. He was smirking. He always smirked. All this for him was clearly terribly amusing. It was taking a great deal of concentration for Rose to keep fear from her face.

'Stay the fuck away from me, you sick bastard' she finally spat. Her voice didn't falter. That was good.

All this got her though was only a wider grin.

'What exactly do you expect to achieve with this? Do you expect me to open the door for you and let you walk out?'

This was a bad idea. Terrible idea. Oh so terrible. He was right. What was she going to do? Run off? Even if she hit him, injured him somehow so as to run out of this room how would she make it out of this bunker alive?

No. She could not falter so easily, she had to stand her ground. She had the heavy staff and he seemed to be unarmed. As he took a step towards her she did not hesitate to swing the staff against his chest but she regretted the move soon enough since he easily took a hold of it and wrenched it from her hands.

Rose was angry now. Angry at him, angry at herself and how stupid she had been. And her anger was filling her eyes with tears, she could barely make his shape out in fact but she could almost feel his feral grin on her skin as he slowly inched closer.

'Why?' was all that Rose managed to say, but the sound came out choked and strained.

He leaned the staff on the corner between the wall and the door and circled around her, gently skimming a hand on her arm to caress its length to her shoulder.

He wasn't grinning anymore.

* * *

How small and weak she was.

Humans were indeed fragile little toys. Perhaps a better comparison would be with children. Yes, humans were small and weak like children and like children they screamed at one another on meaningless squabbles driven singularly by egoism and a primal need of survival. They had no idea of the bigger picture. They were specks of dust lost in the infinity of the universe. He would give them purpose. To bend the knee in subjugation to him would be the greatest blessing the human race would receive. Their loss of freedom would be the purest of liberations. It wouldn't even be the first time for them, but their so called God hadn't been back for them for a few thousand years. He had most likely been bored with them. Loki would snatch the humans from their reveries like an authoritarian Father for these abandoned children.

So easily was the woman's spark of defiance quenched with only a few words. She posed no resistance anymore, not physically at least. He could see in the contraction of the muscles near her red lips how angry she was, how bitter she felt in her powerlessness. He could break her shoulder with a firmer squeeze of his hand.

But he didn't.

Instead he traced the collar of her jumper, then with both hands he brought to fruition his initial fantasy, ripping her clothes off her body starting from her back. She didn't make a sound anymore. She barely flinched as the tear in her clothes ran lower along her back. But it was Loki now who was caught off guard. As he exposed the flesh of her back he realised that her skin was not pale and immaculate as he had imagined.

 _Was that a flower?_

In his surprise Loki spread her torn clothes from shoulder to shoulder to reveal flowers and leaves drawn across her back. A silent gasp, half in surprise half in amusement, escaped him and he rubbed his palm on the painting to see if it would smear. And it didn't. The flowers were inked within her skin. She felt like velvet, the presence of the drawings unaltered the smooth feel of her back.

He turned her around pulling down the front of her clothes to free her round breasts. The women in Midgard didn't wear the rigid corset like the women of Asgard, but a smaller one that cupped only the breasts. Her arms were covered with drawings as well, of bees and butterflies hanging around colourful flowers whereas more intricate patterns adorned her abdomen, right beneath her breasts.

Loki was completely enraptured. This he didn't expect. He knew of creatures in far off worlds who painted their bodies before battle, others with priests who donned ritual symbols on their skins and he even noticed other humans with some random marks but this was simply art. She was like –

'The ultimate canvas' he whispered.

This time he wasn't really paying attention to the fact that he, Loki of Asgard was kneeling, for the second time in the same night. He was pulling and pushing to slid the skirt around her waist but if he tore it to pieces he might not get to enjoy the slow discovery of other pictures along her body. And he wanted to enjoy it. Her hand came to help him and she loosened the skirt. He wasn't expecting her compliance but her face was void of any expression. How could she be so blank in this moment of utter catharsis? He was so unexpectedly stunned by his discovery he felt like she should share in his pure feelings of marvel.

Slowly he lowered the puffy skirt along her thighs until it fell around her ankles, but his hands went to the strips of cloth that remained around her waist and covered her modesty. From there a few strings dangled holding the clear shiny stockings she wore. As he suspected her thighs were covered in more drawings but not as coloured as her shoulders. On the right there were three raven skulls with cobwebs hanging from their beaks, on the left the anguished face of a wailing woman with empty eyes. Then he noticed one of her stockings was torn at the knee, which was scratched and a little bloodied.

He slid his fingers from her waist to her thighs and he could not help himself from burying his face between them, to smell her hidden cunt. Then he bent further down to kiss the bleeding knee.

'I need a toilet' her voice came without expression.

'What do you want?' he raised his head as if stirred from a vision.

'I need to take a piss' she spat. Her small soft mouth was clenched in anger. 'Unless you want me to piss on your dick when you rape me.'

Without taking his eyes of hers Loki rose to his feet and gestured to the door. A faint glimmer of magic was visible around it as he unlocked the door.

'Second door to the right.'

She hesitated for a second then she bent to pull her skirt back up. When he put a foot on it so she couldn't get dressed again she faced him with such anger it was almost amusing, her mouth clenched, her eyes dry but bloodshot from the tears she shed as he undressed, betrayed by the black trails they left smearing some of her makeup. He watched the sway of her hips as she left the room with as much dignity as she had left and her back straight in defiance, then he sat on the bed resting his elbows on his thighs and holding his head with his hands.

Loki exhaled long and deep, his eyes closed.


End file.
